Big L's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

For a week Big L ran the boss's errands. He collected debts and dropped the cash at the corner store. Dread's two men still smirked when he walked in. To them he was a dog on a leash, nothing more. Big L had no crew, no name that made people sweat. He was just the new errand boy. He wanted the streets. Instead he fetched money for a man who owned him. He knew the truth. A man with no crew stayed a servant forever. Dread had two soldiers. Big L had a pitbull and a gun. So he stopped collecting and started watching. He learned when Dread came alone to the store, weed in his palm, guard down. That night Big L walked in with the dog at his heel. Dread leaned on the display window, rolling a purple nugget between his fingers. His two men were gone. He glanced up, bored. "You empty-handed again," Dread said. "That's twice this week you—" "I'm done collecting for you," Big L said. Dread's thumb stopped. He set the weed on the counter and reached for the gun in the back of his jeans. Big L was faster. He crossed the floor and drove his fist into Dread's jaw before the gun cleared. Dread hit the display window. Glass cracked behind him. Dread swung wild. Big L took it on the shoulder and hit back, once, twice, into the ribs. The pitbull lunged and clamped Dread's wrist. Dread screamed and dropped the gun. It skidded across the floor. Big L kicked it away and grabbed a fistful of dreads. He slammed the kingpin's head into the counter. Dread went down hard. He knelt in the broken glass, blood on his lip, holding his torn wrist. The dog stood over him, blue eyes fixed, teeth bared. Big L picked up the fallen gun and pointed it at the man who used to own him. "Say it," Big L said. "Say these blocks are mine now." Dread spat blood. He looked at the dog, then the gun, then the young man he'd tried to bury a week ago. Something in his face broke. "They're yours," Dread said. "They're yours." Big L let the dreads go. He picked up the purple nugget off the counter and weighed it in his palm, the way Dread always did. "Get out," he said. "Tell your two men who runs this corner now." Dread crawled up and stumbled out the door, cradling his wrist. Big L stood alone in the store with his dog and the boss's gun. The leash was gone. The streets outside were his. But he knew what beating a kingpin meant. Dread had men. Dread had friends who marked people for death. By morning the whole block would know Big L had taken the throne. And everyone who'd ever knelt to Dread would come to test the new king.